


I'm falling, baby through the sky, through the sky

by Hawkguys_and_Coffee



Series: Inktober 2020 [3]
Category: Bandstand - Oberacker/Oberacker & Taylor
Genre: Aggression, Donny is picking a fight, Fights, Gen, Im sorry this isnt the best, Let the poor boys vibe and fix their problems, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, he needs help, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26809753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkguys_and_Coffee/pseuds/Hawkguys_and_Coffee
Summary: "War does not determine who is right-- only who is left"-Bertrand RussellThe war had ended.  But why did it feel like Donny Novitski was still fighting one?Prompt: Bulky
Series: Inktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951333
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	I'm falling, baby through the sky, through the sky

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe these are getting progressively shorter and shorter as I stay up later and later to watch Criminal Minds...

“How long have you been out kid?”

Donny Novitski looked up tiredly. He blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the black spots dancing in his eyes from when he had pressed the heels oh his palms into them in a way of stopping the throbbing from lack of sleep. "I'm sorry?"

"How long were you servin'?" The man at his side was looking at him with piercing green eyes and hair hidden under a felt cap. This was the first time they had spoken since they had boarded. 

After a few more moments for his sluggish brain to process the question, Donny murmured, “Three years, eight months, twelve days.”

“I got yah beat kid. Three years, ten months,” The man chuckled as if it were funny.

“It’s not a game, you know,” Donny said before turning to look out the window. The glass was cold against his cheek. Almost as cold as the icy trenches he'd spent days in. It kept him awake. Good. Better that than visions of dead, he mused with a bit of contempt.

By now, buildings began to pop up along the tracks. A few cars could be seen, too. There, in the distance, Donny's eyes locked on the skyline of his hometown. It looked the same as it had the day he left. Lake Erie reflected the gray clouds above like it had many a time. Skyscrapers peppered the earth like redwoods. They were close to Cleveland. Close to home. 

The man, untroubled by Donny's weariness, rolled his eyes. He patted his shoulder condescending and Donny cringed. “Still got ya beat!”

“God, does it matter?" He pushed the man's hand off with more force than needed. By now, Donny's anger was beginning to rise. He was tired. No-- he was exhausted. Couldn't this man just give him a break? "What's your problem? You want a medal? A bit of tin and a strip ribbon? Just for what-- surviving? It's not that much of an accomplishment, believe me." He knew it wasn’t right to provoke others, but he didn’t stop. He wanted a fight. He _needed _a fight. He wanted his inside to reflect his outside and then everyone would see how tired he was of fighting for every day.__

__“Hey, you better watch your mouth, pal.” A crooked finger was pointed between his eyes._ _

__Donny just shook his head and rested his elbows on his bulky rucksack squashed between his knees. “Listen, nobody gives a rat’s ass what we did out there. We’re gonna come home and be in the same position we were when we left: young and broke.”_ _

__This time, instead of responding, the man at his side shoved Donny. Hard. He rammed into the side of the train car, his head bouncing against the glass harshly. Another blow landed on his lip, busting it open so blood dribbled down his chin._ _

__“Go on, take a hit.” Donny egged on, wanting to feel the pain, wanting to make the world stop for just a little bit._ _

__Every time Donny shut his eyes, he saw Michael's remains, bloody and unfamiliar, washing away in the rain. It wasn't a miracle to survive the war. It was a curse. A curse of the worst sorts, one where every brutal image was seared into your brain. One where it nagged and pulled at your willpower until a man was nothing more than the empty shells that fell from discarded bullets._ _

__Donny and the man besides him locked eyes, rage barely controlled between them. He knew this was unlike him. Usually he was a peacemaker, someone who tried to keep people together. But now? Now he was tired and weary and just wanted the world to stop spinning to he could rest. All Donny wanted to do was rest. To shut his eyes and see only blackness-- it was something didn't seem like it could be real anymore._ _

__“Why, you little runt!” The man pulled his fist back and aimed to take a punch. Donny shut his eyes, waiting for the blow…_ _

__But it never came._ _

__Someone pushed to two away from each other. “Break it up, fellas. Break it up.”_ _

__And, as quickly as it started, the fight stopped. Donny wiped the blood off his chin and sighed. His seat partner was moved. He didn’t pay attention where. Some other blank face took his spot and stoically sat without a word._ _

__The train clattered on, the fight long forgotten._ _

__\--_ _

__When they got to the station, Donny was expecting to see his father. But, as he looked across the sea of faces, he wasn’t to be found. Figures. He clutched a slip of paper buried in his pocket. It had nothing on it but a few numbers and a name. A street name. A breath he didn’t know he was holding escaped Donny’s lips. He needed to find Julia Trojan._ _

__There was still one more chance for him. Once more chance for him to set things straight. One more chance for him to make up for his mistakes._ _

__One more chance to be saved._ _


End file.
